


Is Twenty Dollars What We’re Really Worth?

by pen_of_a_valkyrie (orphan_account)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Brotp, Implied Relationships, Paintball, bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:21:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24139546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/pen_of_a_valkyrie
Summary: Steve bets Clint twenty dollars that he could beat Nat in paintball. It goes horribly wrong, and overly dramatic, very fast.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov
Kudos: 7





	Is Twenty Dollars What We’re Really Worth?

The chattering of automatics filtered through the thicket. Overhead, Clint could hear someone scream. 

Was that one closer? He couldn’t tell; the blood roaring in his ears was incessantly pounding in intervals, and the itch on his nose wasn’t helping Clint’s concentration, and hell knows that was wavering. 

Heavy panting mixed with the quick crunch of dirt and the crisp snapping of twigs: Was this what it all came down to? Two friends, lifelong partners, having to end it all over seeming nothing. Pathetic, Clint huffed. All this time spent together, nothing. 

Clint’s sides burned, his legs ached, and something tight was burrowing in his chest. His gun was slick with sweat, but he held on tight with everything he had. Whether or not he had it could make the difference of life or death for Clint. 

A clearing appeared, with concrete barriers about three feet tall dotting the mass of ferns in a loose circle. Gunshots had been flung almost carelessly on them, this was an experienced battlefield. 

Clint dove behind one of the walls, on the inside of the circle. He peaked around it from where he came but stood rigid, even though he saw nothing. Just because Clint didn’t see anything doesn’t mean there was nothing there; He learned that the hard way a long time ago. 

Clint learned on the wall for a moment to catch his breath, puffing heavily to get the oxygen to his blood. A loud snap echoed in the clearing. Clint froze. It was time to go. 

He groaned at the prospect of more running, but got up, hiked up his boots, internalised his bitching, and hightailed it out of there like a mad dog was after him. Not that would make much of a difference, that is. Now Clint won’t even bother staying out of sight. The only thing that mattered now was getting out of there while he could. So, he sprinted out of there like his ass was on fire. 

Clint endured through the bushes, the trees, trying to avoid them to the best of his abilities, but still had to go through some of them. A tree branch snapped on his cheek, the scratch stinging in the air. Clint would have to worry about that later, assuming there would be one. 

Clint ran as fast as he could but it just wasn’t enough; a chain link fence blocked his path. 

Maybe he could jump it? Clint shouldered his gun and slipped his foot between the wires. Shots clattered on wiring. Clint jumped off of the fence and armed himself. He pointed his gun at the trees and placed his back to the fence, eliminating one angle for someone to sneak up on him. A shadow jumped from clumps of forestry, zigzagging, coming closer and closer with each jump. Clint fired with unusual carelessness.  
Finally, there was a click. 

Oh shit. 

“Oh, Clint. Out of ammo, so soon?” A smooth voice rang out. “You’d think you’d have learned from New York, Hawkeye.”

Clint gritted his teeth. “Nat, please-“

“Can it.” Natasha’s brilliant red hair popped out from behind her cover, along with a scary looking gun. “Twenty dollars? Really? That’s what our friendship means to you?”

Clint sighed. He had foolishly thought that he could take her this time. Something that clearly won’t hold up in the long run. 

Natasha clicked her tongue. “You thought wrong, Hawkeye. 

“You thought wrong.”

A dull pain splintered on Clint’s chest. He fell to his knees. Wetness splattered on his face, the pink paint sticky and bright. 

“Ow.”

Natasha snorted. “Drama queen.” She held out a hand, which Clint took, and drug him to his feet. “Did you really think you could take me one on one?”

He laughed and rubbed his neck. “I don’t now, asshole.”

She laughed in return. “Dick.”

They stood for a moment. “How about sandwiches for lunch?” Nat offered. 

He thought about it for a moment. “Hell yeah.”

**Author's Note:**

> So this is actually my first complete fanfic! I wrote it in one go while binging Jane the Virgin, so I hope you like it. 
> 
> Let me know what you thought!


End file.
